


taste the sky (and feel alive again)

by tamquams



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: (<- that's my favorite tag), Fluff and Angst, M/M, Ronan Compliant Language, Ronan POV, Semi-explicit sex, TRC compliant but not CDTH compliant, adam is perpetually angsty because he is my emotional support character, and gansey is tipsy, declan baby i'm so sorry, fun fact this was supposed to be 2k words of ronan angst and it turned into... this, henry is drunk for the entirety of his apperance, i love declan but i made him a jerk just for the sake of being a jerk, it's ronan's birthday! for no reason, kinda? i'm afraid to write smut, minor underage drinking, not cdth compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:40:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22904881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamquams/pseuds/tamquams
Summary: “Missed you,” Adam breathed, his lips finding Ronan’s, “so much.”“Missed you,” Ronan groaned into the kiss, “more.”
Relationships: Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Comments: 23
Kudos: 214





	taste the sky (and feel alive again)

There was never a moment when Ronan wasn’t missing Adam. Even if it wasn’t at the forefront of his mind, there was always the feeling of missing something. It was like going to school and just _knowing_ that you had forgotten something at home, but being incapable of placing the absence until it was too late. 

Of course, Ronan was very aware of what exactly he was missing.

He was missing waking up to small, even puffs of warm breath against his collarbone. He was missing crystalline blue eyes meeting his gaze from across the room, shining with joy and love (and often enough, mischief). He was missing gasoline-scented laundry, the dissonant thud of a workboot being kicked off, exchanging dirty jokes across the table at breakfast. He was missing that feeling of _love_ , irrefutable _love_ , the kind of love they made movies about and fought wars over. 

He was missing Adam Parrish.

Ronan knew easily that long distance was not what he was built for. He was wired to show love through touch, and to receive it that way as well. Had it been anyone other than Adam — not that it would have been, not that it _could have been_ anyone other than Adam — it simply would not have been worth it. But it _was_ Adam. It was Adam fucking Parrish. Ronan could bear any pain if it meant being with Adam, having Adam, loving Adam. He could (and would) do anything for him, without question. He was not built for long distance, no, but he was certainly built for Adam.

Not that it made it any easier. They spoke on the phone every evening (and often in the mornings, too, and the afternoons, and sometimes all through the night) and sent each other cheesy postcards and love letters. They video chatted often, Snapchatted even more often, and texted nearly nonstop. Ronan still hated his phone more than words could say, but again, any and all pain was worth it just to hear Adam’s voice or see his face or exchange an inside joke. 

It was a very rare occasion for Ronan to answer a message from anyone other than Adam, of course.

So. It wasn’t that there was ever a moment that Ronan didn’t miss Adam. It was just that there were some moments where he missed him more, or he was at least more aware of the missing him. There were some moments where it felt like getting hit over the head with a goddamn frying pan. Sometimes missing Adam was just part of him. Sometimes it was all of him.

Tonight was like that. It was sort of like being eaten whole, if Ronan was going to be poetic about it. It was like being completely and utterly _consumed_ , like he was covered in gasoline and the thought of Adam was a lit match and it took just a fraction of a second for fire to catch. And he was burning, burning, burning — either a star being born or a supernova flaming out, he thought half-hysterically — and Jesus God, he couldn’t even _breathe_ without Adam. It was a terrifying thought, the co-dependency of it both painful and humiliating, but he didn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed. He just missed Adam. He just wanted Adam. He just needed Adam.

The house was too quiet. Opal was out being a public menace somewhere, and Adam was at college, and the house was too fucking quiet for Ronan. Even when he blasted his dad’s old Celtic records at full volume. Even when he sang along to the Murder Squash Song at the top of his lungs. He turned on every television, tuned every radio to the most horrifically techno station he could find, opened every door and window. And, still. Too quiet. 

The thing was, it had nothing to do with noise. It wasn’t _noise_ that was missing — it was Adam. Adam and his out-of-tune singing, Adam and his overjoyed laughter, Adam and his sloppy Latin flirting. The living room was too quiet without Adam yelling the answers out to questions on Jeopardy. The entryway was too quiet without Adam stumbling clumsily out of his boots after a long day of work. The kitchen was too quiet without Adam opening and closing cabinet doors in the hopes of finally locating a mixing bowl. The bathroom was too quiet without Adam humming classic rock in the shower. The bedroom was too quiet without Adam snoring right in Ronan’s ear. Everything was too quiet without Adam. Everything was too god damn quiet.

Fuck that. Ronan walked outside, threw himself down on the front steps, yelping instinctually when his tailbone hit the cement wrong. He leaned back against the porch and scowled at the stupid sky with its stupid pink clouds and stupid flock of birds heading south. Lowered his gaze and scowled at the fields full of stupid cows, the barns full of stupid dreams, the driveway and the stupid car coming down it.

Wait.

Wait.

Hold. The. Fucking. Phone.

It wasn’t just any stupid car.

It was _the_ stupid car.

The Hondayota. The shitbox.

 _Adam’s_ stupid car.

The scowl slipped from Ronan’s face just to be replaced with a look of stunned surprise. He stood up and blinked slowly at the approaching vehicle, his mind doing backflips to try and piece together the information in front of him, but he honestly still didn’t believe it was happening even when Adam pulled up right in front of him and slid out of the front seat like he was coming from Boyd’s instead of Harvard.

Surely this was a dream. It wouldn’t be the first dream Ronan had about Adam, or the last.

Maybe Ronan was wrong. Maybe he couldn’t tell the difference between dreaming and being awake anymore.

He opened his mouth to articulate this, or maybe to tell Adam that he loved him, or maybe for no reason at all, but the words that spilled out definitely didn’t ask for permission first. “The fuck are you doing here?” he asked blankly.

Adam just smiled, that bright, genuine smile that Ronan would topple civilizations for. “Missed you,” he said simply, slamming the car door behind him.

Ronan raised an eyebrow, looked him over once, and then launched himself across the yard.

Adam’s arms wrapped around him as soon as they were able to, the feeling all at once familiar and comforting and overwhelming and brand-fucking-new. Ronan pressed his face into his boyfriend’s neck, breathing in the scent of him, the combination of shaving cream and laundry detergent and sweat and motor oil and _Adam_ , fucking _Adam_ , god damn _Adam Parrish_.

“You drove ten fucking hours because you missed me?” Ronan asked, not moving his face, and oh _shit_ , was he _crying_? Fuck. Jesus Fuck. Ronan Lynch didn’t fucking _cry_ , no matter how much he missed his fucking boyfriend. Shit. He hoped vainly that Adam wouldn’t notice.

Adam noticed.

“Hey,” his voice said, so fucking _soft_ — really, how had Ronan fallen in love with such a fucking _nerd_ — “Are you crying? What’s wrong?” He slipped a gentle hand to cup Ronan’s cheek, lift his face till they were eye-to-eye, and Ronan blushed bright pink at the look of concern and love on Adam’s face.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he said, aiming for gruff and falling very, very short. “It’s just- just- fuck, Adam, you’re _here_.”

Adam nodded solemnly, as if this was a coherent sentence, and smiled gently. “I’m here, Ronan. I’m here,” he repeated, brushing a tear away with the pad of his thumb. “I’m right here.”

There was too much going on for Ronan to be mortified. His heart was too full, his brain moving too fast, for anything like ‘embarrassment’ to even fit. There was nothing but Adam, Adam’s eyes, Adam’s lips, Adam’s freckles — Adam fucking Parrish, in the flesh. 

“I thought you wouldn’t be back till Thanksgiving,” mumbled Ronan, balling up the fabric of Adam’s shirt in his fists. 

“Couldn’t wait that long,” Adam said, his thumb ghosting over Ronan’s bottom lip. “Missed you too much. Plus, what type of boyfriend would I be if I missed your birthday?”

Fuck. Shit. He was right — Ronan’s birthday was that weekend. 

Ronan’s birthday, which he said he couldn’t make it home for, because of homework or whatever.

“Wait a second,” said Ronan, narrowing his eyes at Adam. “You said you couldn’t come home this weekend. You _lied_ to me.” He tried to sound wounded, but he was too fucking happy for his tone to fall anywhere beneath ‘entirely ecstatic.’

“No,” said Adam carefully, the corner of his mouth quirking upward. “I said I was busy this weekend. Which I am. Busy. Here. At home. With you. For your birthday.”

There wasn’t enough time to unpack _all_ of that, Ronan thought feebly, but he did know that his heart was fucking singing at the sound of Adam calling the Barns _home_. His brain full of white-hot light, Ronan leaned forward and kissed him.

The kiss was sweet for approximately half a second — it took no time at all for it to turn sloppy, open-mouthed and dirty. Ronan felt the kiss in every inch of his body, burning in a very different way than he had been burning just moments ago. He pressed Adam against the car, his hands rough on Adam’s ribs, lips rougher on his jawline, and he was considering the merits of fucking Adam right then and there when the sound of fucking hoofbeats shook him out of his (exceptionally filthy) thoughts.

“Adam!” cried Opal, flinging herself between Adam and Ronan. Ronan was painfully aware of certain feelings in certain parts of his anatomy that he did not want Opal to be anywhere near, but Adam, the little fucker, seemed perfectly unaffected aside from his pink, swollen lips. “Opal!” he exclaimed, picking her up in a tight hug. She giggled as she threw her arms around his neck. Ronan just huffed.

“What am I, chopped liver?” Ronan grumbled after a second.

Opal glanced at him over her shoulder, rolling her eyes. Another habit picked up from spending way too much time hanging out with Ronan. “Hi Kerah,” she said with much less enthusiasm than she had used in greeting Adam.

It was fair, Ronan thought — he was certainly excited to see Adam, too. He really couldn’t blame Opal for loving Adam so much, especially since she was practically a piece of his soul. Of course she loved Adam. Everything Ronan dreamt up loved Adam. There wasn’t a cell in his body nor a thought in his head that _didn’t_ love Adam Parrish.

“Kerah didn’t say you were coming home today,” Opal said accusingly as Adam gently put her down. She refused to let go for a moment longer, and then didn’t budge an inch once she finally unwound her arms from his neck.

“ _Ronan_ didn’t know I was coming home.” Adam enunciated Ronan’s name carefully, a reminder that Opal was supposed to call him by his name. “I surprised him.”

“And me!” Opal shouted, like it was what really mattered.

Adam indulged her. “And you,” he said, giving her his brightest smile.

“Have you eaten yet?” Ronan broke in after a second, earning him a very dirty look from Opal. Adam just shook his head.

“Nah,” he said, Henrietta accent blooming. “Been on the road all day. Wanted to get here before sunset.”

Ronan rolled his eyes. “Stop justifying your lack of self-care, Parrish,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Just come inside. I’ll make some food.”

“You don’t have to—” Adam started.

Ronan didn’t let him finish that sentence. “Shut the fuck up,” he said fondly, opening the backseat of the shitbox to grab Adam’s bag. “Just come on.” He grabbed Adam’s hand, linking their fingers, and led him toward the door. Opal followed behind, nearly stepping on their heels. Ronan turned back to her for a moment, glaring without heat.

“You have to wash up if you’re coming inside,” he told her sternly.

“But, Kerah—”

“Ronan,” reminded Adam, his voice far softer than Ronan’s. 

She glowered at Ronan, but her gaze turned loving when her eyes met Adam’s. She smiled sweetly for a moment, hoping he would undermine Ronan and let her come inside without washing up, but to his credit, he didn’t waver. Finally, her shoulders sagged.

“Fine,” she said, and the amount of attitude she managed to pack into one syllable was astounding.

Huh. She really _was_ part of Ronan’s soul.

Opal sighed heavily and stomped ahead of them, slamming the screen door wide open and letting it close violently behind her. As soon as she was out of sight, Ronan dropped Adam’s bag and resumed kissing him.

“Hey,” Adam muttered, hands sliding underneath Ronan’s muscle tee, “be careful. Got important stuff in there.”

“I can dream you a new laptop, Parrish,” said Ronan, his hands rough in Adam’s hair.

“ _Other_ important stuff.” Adam pulled back just enough to bite Ronan’s bottom lip. 

Ronan grumbled something unintelligible and started pulling at Adam’s belt greedily, but almost immediately, Adam stopped him. His fingers wrapped around Ronan’s wrist, stilling his hand, and he broke off the kiss, panting heavily.

“Opal’s not going to take very long to wash up,” he said, “and I don’t wanna start something I can’t finish.” He swallowed hard. 

Ugh. Why did Ronan have to fall for somebody so disgustingly responsible?

“Plus,” Adam added after a beat, his voice steadier, “I believe you promised me dinner.”

Ronan rolled his eyes, stooping to pick up Adam’s bag. “Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, taking his boyfriend’s hand once again and leading him inside.

“Okay, brat,” Ronan said to Opal at exactly midnight. “Bed time.”

“But you and Adam are staying up!” she argued.

Adam, who was half-asleep with his head in Ronan’s lap, spoke up. “Nah, it’s my bedtime, too, Opal,” he said, not even opening his eyes. “But I promise that I’ll see you tomorrow, ‘kay?”

Opal twisted her mouth into a scowl. “Fine,” she huffed, standing up from her seat on the couch beside Ronan. “Goodnight, Adam,” she said, and she actually leaned down to give him a kiss on the forehead. Little bastard had never given _Ronan_ a goodnight kiss. She threw a glare in his direction. “Goodnight, Kerah,” she said, her voice venomous.

“Ronan,” Adam reminded her.

She clip-clopped down the hallway toward the room that was made up for her — she was sleeping inside tonight, probably paranoid that Adam would forget his promise and leave without seeing her again. It was an unreasonable fear, though; Adam Parrish was not a breaker of promises. Not to anyone, and especially not to Opal.

It was blissfully quiet for a few minutes, nothing but the glow of the lamplight and Adam’s hair soft underneath Ronan’s fingers, and then Adam sat up, blinking slowly. “Let’s go to bed,” he suggested, his words softened considerably by his sleep-heavy accent.

Ronan stood slowly, an arm wrapped around Adam’s waist to keep him upright as they made their way up the stairs. As soon as they were through the doorway of their room, Adam sat on the edge of the bed, pulled his belt off languidly, pushed his jeans down and left them rumpled on the floor so he could crawl underneath the covers.

Damn, he really _was_ tired.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” Ronan said, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Don’t wait up.” He leaned down to kiss Adam on the forehead, a fluid motion identical to Opal’s just a few moments ago, and turned the light off for Adam. 

His shower was long, the type of shower reserved for people who had never worried about hot water or water bills, but when he walked back into the bedroom, a towel just barely hanging onto his hips, the lamp was on. And Adam was awake.

“Everything okay?” Ronan asked immediately, closing the door behind him with uncharacteristic softness. 

Adam was sitting up — leaning heavily against the headboard, eyes half-closed, but still technically upright. His shirt was gone and the comforter was pulled halfway up his chest. “Everything’s fine,” he said, voice raspy with sleepiness and something else. “Come here.”

Ronan did as he was told. He was good like that.

He crawled onto the bed, towel falling off as he moved. Adam lifted up the blankets so he could crawl underneath, and then hands were on Ronan’s ribs, and then his hips, and then thighs, and all Ronan could do was melt into the touch.

“Missed you,” Adam breathed, his lips finding Ronan’s, “so much.”

“Missed you,” Ronan groaned into the kiss, “more.”

Gently, Adam pushed Ronan’s shoulders flat against the bed so he could straddle him. “Not possible,” he murmured, and he kissed Ronan’s clavicle, his lips feather-light on the warm skin. 

Ronan hummed, his hands holding Adam steady on top of him. The pads of his thumbs rubbed soothing circles against the smooth skin of Adam’s hips as Adam peppered soft kisses across Ronan’s upper chest. 

“You know,” Adam whispered, scraping his teeth softly against Ronan’s collarbone, “it’s technically your birthday now.”

Ronan blinked. “Is it?”

“It is.” And with that, Adam ground down on Ronan’s lap.

And. Oh.

_Oh._

Ronan had already accepted the fact that they wouldn’t be having sex that night. Hell, he’d gone through all five stages of grief. He knew that Adam was exhausted, and that he would more than make up for it the rest of the weekend, so he hadn’t even brought it up since before dinner. But Adam, it seemed, had very different plans.

Good plans. They were good plans. Adam was such a good planner.

“Adam,” Ronan groaned against his will. 

“I’m here,” Adam said, just as he had said when he had first arrived. “I’m here.” He ground down again, slower this time, pulling a broken hiss from somewhere deep in Ronan’s throat.

“God _damn_.” 

Adam slid down Ronan’s form then, kissing every place he could reach, open-mouthed and wet. One hand remained on Ronan’s upper thigh, and the other travelled up, up, up, till his thumb was pressed against Ronan’s lips. Ronan opened his mouth immediately, biting down on it lightly. 

When Adam took Ronan into his mouth, it was such a surreal experience that he left his body for a moment. And then he was back, awake, alive, fucking electric. His entire body was hot and the boy on top of him was moaning and his nails were scrabbling to find purchase in the sheets, the smooth expanse of Adam’s back, fucking anywhere. They finally hooked themselves into Adam’s sleep-mussed hair, eliciting a groan that Ronan felt in his fucking _soul_ , and he could hear himself speaking but he wasn’t completely sure that he was coherent. He thought he heard the word _angel_ leave his lips, and _love_ , and _jesusfuckingchristadam_ , and then _yesyesyes_ , followed closely by _fuckthatsitlovefuckyesjesusloveiloveyou_ , and then he saw fucking stars.

When Adam finally crawled up beside him and kissed him, a searing kiss that burned straight through the haze of Ronan’s afterglow, Ronan reached his hands out to Adam and slid them under his boxers, but Adam just yawned and draped himself across Ronan’s entire chest.

“S’okay,” Adam murmured, already half asleep. “Goodnight. I love you.”

Ronan did his smoker’s breath, shaking on the inhale but steady by the exhale. “I love you,” he said, and then he slept.

There was only one thing Ronan liked better than waking up to Adam in his bed: waking up to Adam in his bed, with food.

The fact that Opal was present was neither here nor there.

“Happy birthday!” she squealed as soon as Ronan’s eyes blinked open. She seemed to have forgotten her annoyance with Ronan from the day before, or perhaps she was just playing nice for Adam; either way, there was genuine delight in her eyes as she wrapped on arm around Ronan in a half-hug that Adam completed from Ronan’s other side. Ronan felt fondness coursing through him.

Gross. 

“Adam let me help with breakfast,” Opal chattered excitedly as Ronan sat up. Adam slowly propped up a tray in front of him, smiling softly. “He let me mix the pancake batter, and put the bread in the toaster, and pour the orange juice and the maple syrup!”

“She was very helpful,” Adam said without an ounce of condescension. Opal grinned so hard so was practically snarling.

“Sounds like it,” Ronan said, reaching over to ruffle Opal’s short hair. For once, she didn’t bare her teeth at him. “Thanks, runt.”

The first time somebody had explained the concept of a birthday to Opal, she had cried for days. “ _You’re going to grow up and die!_ ” she wailed at Adam the morning he turned nineteen. 

Obviously, somebody had talked some fucking sense into her since then. Or she didn’t care if Ronan died.

Either way.

“Opal,” Adam said, glancing across the bed at her, “show Ronan the card.”

“The card!” Opal shrieked, grabbing something from behind her. She suddenly became very shy as she turned to face Ronan once again, holding her hands out to him timidly. “I made it myself,” she said, and God, he had resolved not to get all mushy or whatever, but this was…

The card was black construction paper folded in half so deliberately that he could tell right away it had been Adam’s hand to smooth the crease. The rest of the card, however, was _very_ Opal, from the clump of grass glued to one corner to the handful of glitter stuck to another. There were no words, because Opal couldn’t write, but he didn’t mind. Love didn’t always need words.

Fuck, he was getting sappy.

“I love it,” Ronan said honestly, and Opal practically _preened_. “Best fucking birthday card I’ve ever received. Sorry, Parrish, it’s gonna be pretty damn hard to follow that.” He set the card gingerly on his bedside table, then turned to look at Adam. “But you can try.”

Adam just shrugged, smirking slightly. “Nah,” he said, “no point.”

“Adam Parrish, did you not get me a birthday card?” Ronan asked, pretending to be hurt.

“I did you one better, actually,” Adam said, crossing his arms. “I got you _me._ ”

Ronan considered. “Okay, yeah, fair.” He pulled Adam in for a quick kiss.

“Ugh,” Opal said, but there was no hint of disgust in her voice. It was just another phrase she had picked up from Ronan.

“Shut it, brat,” Ronan said fondly. He patted Adam on the cheek, then pushed him back. “Okay. So. I was thinking—”

Adam cut him off. “Yeah, that never ends well. Let me do the thinking. You just eat your breakfast.”

Ronan scowled. “It was a good idea, though,” he grumbled.

“I’m sure it was.” Adam kissed him softly on the cheek, then turned to Opal. “Come on, O,” he said, inclining his head in the direction of the door. “Let’s go get our food now.”

“Okay!” In two seconds flat, Opal was off the bed and running down the stairs.

“Don’t run!” Adam called after her. “You’re gonna scuff the floors!”

“Not sure she really cares,” mused Ronan, cutting off a piece of pancake and stuffing into his mouth aggressively. “So. What’s on the agenda today?”

The grin that Adam flashed him was positively wicked. “It’s a surprise,” he whispered, and the sharpness in the corners of his smile was _definitely_ something he had learned from Ronan. He winked and then backed out of the room, his casual walk turning into a jog when a resounding _crash_ came from the kitchen.

In the privacy of his empty childhood bedroom, listening to the muffled voices of his family, Ronan let himself smile. A real, warm, soft smile, one that was remarkably out of place amid the sharp planes and angles of his face. A smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes, which were very close to tearing up. For just a moment, he allowed himself that moment of vulnerability. He was happy. He was happy. He was happy.

Adam was good at surprises.

Like, really good. 

Like, _scary_ good.

“How long have you been planning this?” Ronan asked after cornering Adam in the kitchen. Adam was leaning back against the counter, a smug smile spread across his face, and Ronan had him boxed in with an arm on either side. He leaned into Adam, just close enough to smell his spearmint toothpaste, and Adam just smiled wider.

“A while,” he said with a nonchalant shrug, his hands resting idly on Ronan’s hips. Ronan resisted the urge to step closer.

“A while,” Ronan repeated mockingly, but he couldn’t stop himself from smiling back. “This is… this is insane, Adam. This is fucking insane.”

“I know,” Adam said, sounding quite proud of himself. 

“When did you have the _time_ for this?”

Adam’s jaw twitched almost imperceptibly. “Just in between stuff,” he said, and Ronan could tell that he was being very careful not to lie, but also not to tell the entire truth. “I have a lot of free time at work.”

“Parrish—”

“Ronan, it’s done.” Adam’s voice teetered on the edge between _adoration_ and _exasperation_ — a line that their relationship seemed to live on. “So just enjoy it, okay?”

Ronan glared for a second but nodded anyway. He didn’t want to waste time arguing with Adam. Not this weekend. Not today. Not after everything Adam had done for him. 

“Are you guys gonna hang out in here all day?” a familiar voice asked from the doorway. “Because I did _not_ come all this way to party with Declan.”

Adam and Ronan both turned their heads to flash smiles at Blue Sargent. Adam’s smile said _thank you again for taking a break from your gap year roadtrip to come home and celebrate Ronan’s birthday with us_. Ronan’s smile said _Sargent you asshole get out of my kitchen so I can engage in midget-unfriendly acts with my hot as hell boyfriend._

If Blue understood Ronan’s smile — she most likely did, neither of them wanted to admit it but she and Ronan were very alike — she didn’t let on. “Plus, Henry and Matthew are threatening to do karaoke.”

Adam extricated himself from Ronan’s arms. “Now, this, I gotta see,” he said, bumping his hip against Ronan’s as he walked away. He brushed Blue’s arm in the doorway and then disappeared into the living room.

Ronan was still leaning against the counter on one arm, frowning at Blue. She smirked in response.

“I hate you,” he huffed.

She just wiggled her eyebrows at him. “Happy birthday, Lynch.”

The living room was very full of the weirdest combination of people that Ronan had witnessed in a while. It seemed like every conversation was weirder than the last: Henry Cheng and Matthew joking around in the corner; Gansey monologuing enthusiastically to a graciously-pretending-to-be-interested Maura; Adam and Blue dancing with Opal and taking turns spinning her around; Calla and Declan, each with a drink in their hands, lounging on the couch and speaking tersely about something that Ronan could not possibly care less about. It was strange seeing the separate components of his life intersecting, even if they had all touched before. All he could do was lean against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, and watch.

Eventually, Gansey approached him, having finally exhausted all possible conversation subjects with Maura. He was holding a glass with some sort of amber liquid in it; the scent of alcohol tinged his breath, and Ronan was shocked, having never seen Gansey drink before. Gansey sighed, leaning against the wall close enough for his shoulder to touch Ronan’s, and took a sip.

“You having a good time?” Gansey asked, tilting his head back against the wall, It was an unnecessary question — had Ronan been having a bad time, everybody would have known. Staying on the periphery of the party did not indicate a lack of enjoyment, it was simply a habit. He felt safer on the outside. Liked the visibility and the invisibility of it. “Hey, Perks of Being a Wallflower, you in there?”

Ronan leveled Gansey with a faux-judgmental stare. “You’re such a lightweight, man,” he said, eyes flickering to the glass and then back to Gansey’s face. “You’re embarrassing me.”

Gansey snorted, throwing back the rest of the drink. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth in a very un-Gansey-like fashion. “I’ve missed you, Lynch,” he said, shaking his head.

Ronan rolled his eyes and nudged Gansey’s arm with his elbow. “Fuckin’ nerd,” he grunted, which was Ronan speak for _I missed you too_. “Get your sappy ass outta here.” Gansey smiled lopsidedly, clapped a hand on Ronan’s shoulder, and moved on.

Ronan only had time to take one breath before a new person was badgering him. “Lynchman!” Henry exclaimed, stumbling. He was much more inebriated than Gansey, but that wasn’t saying much; Ronan had once seen him fall-down drunk after two vodka shots. 

“Cheng,” said Ronan indifferently. He actually kinda liked Henry, but he also liked pretending that he didn’t just to press Henry’s buttons. It always worked.

“Cheng,” Henry repeated in a high-pitched voice. “Flew all the way across the country to come to your birthday party, and all I get is a _Cheng_?”

Ronan shrugged. “I didn’t ask you to come.”

Henry scoffed. “You wound me,” he said, slumping against the wall. He clutched a hand to his chest. 

“It’s too easy.”

Henry rolled his eyes, swayed slightly, then stood up straight again. “Oh! Hey. Can we do karaoke?” He looked like a kid on Christmas morning. It made Ronan want to tell him no just to see how he’d react.

Instead, Ronan just gave a noncommittal shrug. “Ask Parrish,” he said, nodding in the direction of Adam, who was engaged in conversation with _Declan_ of all people. “He planned this whole thing.”

Henry nodded but didn’t move. “You know, Adam planned this whole thing,” he said slowly.

Ronan rolled his eyes. “Yeah.”

“He loves you so much.”

Ronan knew this, but it made his breath hitch anyway. “Yeah,” he said again, his gaze still trained on Adam all the way across the room. It was suddenly way too much distance.

Henry was still talking when Ronan walked away from him. He crossed the room in just a few strides and came up behind Adam gently, resting his chin on Adam’s shoulder, wrapping his arms loosely around his middle. Adam didn’t turn, just leaned back slightly into Ronan’s embrace, still carrying on his conversation with Declan as if nothing had changed.

Declan, who raised an eyebrow at Ronan as if to say _what an interesting display of affection I can’t tell if you’re claiming your territory or just trying to annoy me but either way it isn’t working_. Ronan’s slightly narrow eyes replied _not everything is about you maybe I just wanted to hug my boyfriend and anyway what are you two even talking about?_ He tuned into the conversation just in time to hear the end of Adam’s sentence.

“...being bisexual.”

Huh. Perhaps this conversation was interesting after all.

“You don’t have to stay in Virginia, though,” said Declan in his boring Declan voice, his eyes still trained on Ronan even as he spoke to Adam. “You’re enjoying Cambridge, right? Massachusetts is a pretty liberal state.”

Ronan narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to say something, but Adam spoke instead. “Massachusetts is nice,” he conceded, and Ronan’s heart dropped. Adam continued. “But I can’t live here and run for office in another state.”

Oh. _Oh_. 

“So you plan on staying here?” Declan’s eyes were sliding back and forth between Adam and Ronan in a way that Ronan did not appreciate one bit.

“Well, yeah,” said Adam, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “This is Ronan’s home.”

Ronan’s heart fucking _soared._

Declan nodded and sipped his drink, his expression unchanging. It was impossible to tell if he approved of his brother’s relationship or not, but it didn’t particularly matter to Ronan _or_ Adam. 

Well. That wasn’t completely true. But it wasn’t lying if you didn’t say it out loud.

“You know, Ronan, this party doesn’t really fit your style,” Declan said after a moment, but this time his eyes were on Adam. Ronan felt the urge to shield his boyfriend from his brother’s hardassery. 

“Actually,” Ronan said, his arms tightening around Adam’s waist, “I’m having a pretty good fucking time.” And he was. He really was. He would never admit it to the masses, but he enjoyed having everyone together again under one roof after all the time they had spent apart. It was kind of nice.

Declan’s eyes narrowed minutely, but then he downed the rest of his drink and just sighed. “I’m glad,” he said in a voice that made you question his gladness. “Good to see you, Parrish,” he said, shaking Adam’s hand, and then he was patting Ronan on the shoulder awkwardly. “Happy birthday, bro,” he said, and then cringed slightly at his own unironic use of the word _bro_. 

“Thanks, _bro_ ,” said Ronan with a sharp grin. As soon as Declan was out of earshot, he pressed his lips to Adam’s good ear, feeling more than hearing Adam’s small sigh at the touch. “The fuck was that about?”

“He was trying to talk me into majoring in political science,” Adam said, covering Ronan’s hands with his own. 

Ronan made a disgusted noise. “Gross,” he remarked. 

“He doesn’t like me very much, does he?”

Ronan frowned. He didn’t like the way Adam’s voice sounded, the edge of self-consciousness creeping in. He turned Adam around to face him and saw the same insecurity in his eyes.

“Hey,” said Ronan lowly, his fingers splaying slowly on either side of Adam’s spine. “Why do you give a fuck about what Declan thinks?”

Adam sighed, his arms sliding up Ronan’s chest and around his neck. “I don’t. Not really.” He looked away from Ronan for a second, his eyes tracing the outline of the room as if to make sure nobody was staring at them. When he was satisfied with his search, he returned Ronan’s gaze again, but his eyes were shuttered. “Are you really having a good time, or did you just say that because of Declan?”

Ronan rolled his eyes, pressing his forehead against Adam’s. He, for one, didn’t give a fuck if the entire _world_ was watching. “You callin’ me a liar, Parrish?” he mumbled, and he felt Adam let out an amused breath.

They stood like that for a long moment, neither boy saying a word, until Adam was pushing him away slightly. “Go talk to your guests,” he said, thumbing at Ronan’s cheekbone for a second. “I’ll talk to you later.”

Ronan returned to the party, feeling both lighter and heavier at the same time. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Adam making the rounds, laughing with Gansey and rubbing a hand through Blue’s hair and helping Henry up when he tripped over a rug. Adam, bringing drinks to Calla and Maura, Adam, picking Opal up and spinning her around in a hug, Adam, laughing at an almost certainly not-funny joke from Matthew. Adam, who was just as much Ronan’s family as any other person in the room.

Adam. Adam fucking Parrish.

Blue, Henry, and Gansey were the last to leave. They would have been gone earlier, except Blue had offered to be the designated driver, and while a drunken Gansey was surprisingly pliable, a drunken Henry was unsurprisingly _not_. It had taken nearly forty minutes of goading, bribing, insulting, threatening, and, finally, Ronan physically carrying him just to get Henry in the backseat of the Pig. By the time the roar of the engine disappeared down the driveway, Ronan had flopped down in a chair and slumped across the kitchen table and Adam was putting Opal to bed.

Five minutes passed, and then ten. Ronan was still half asleep on the tabletop and Adam was nowhere to be found. Fifteen minutes, twenty, there was one set of footsteps crossing the living room again and again and again. Twenty five minutes, thirty, and Ronan was shoving himself into a standing position and creeping softly through the doorway.

Adam didn’t notice Ronan enter the living room — he was too busy cleaning, cleaning, cleaning. He held a trash bag in one hand and used the other to sweep plastic cups and paper plates and balled-up napkins into it without ceremony. His lips were pulled down in something reminiscent of a frown, and there was a tiny crease between his eyebrows that marked him as Deep In Thought. As Ronan watched, he strode purposefully across the room, snatching at disposable cutlery and half-eaten bags of chips, and then turned on his heel to pick up an empty water bottle he had missed on the other side of the den. He seemed to be working himself into a frenzy, and Ronan realized suddenly that if he didn’t stop Adam soon, his boyfriend was going to descend into a full-blown downward spiral.

Ronan was vehemently opposed to any and all downward spiraling, especially Adam’s.

“Hey,” Ronan said, and when Adam kept turning and turning and turning, Ronan cleared his voice and tried again. “Hey. Parrish.”

Finally Adam’s head snapped up, eyes locked on Ronan from where he was shuffling in one place in the center of the room. “I’m just cleaning up,” he said, his jaw twitching. “I’ll be in bed soon. You don’t have to wait up.”

Ronan raised an eyebrow, trying and failing to look casual where he leaned against the doorframe. “It’s, like, eight. I wasn’t going to bed yet anyway.”

“Oh,” Adam said lamely, and he bit down on his lip in a nervous sort of way that threatened to break Ronan’s entire heart.

“Adam,” Ronan said quietly, his eyes softening. “Come here.”

Adam put the bag on the ground very lightly, as if it contained something far more precious than birthday party trash, and then crossed the room to Ronan. As soon as he was close enough to touch, Ronan held out his arms and Adam walked straight into them, his body crashing against Ronan’s and nearly propelling them both straight through the doorway into the kitchen. Ronan just steadied himself and held fast as Adam buried his face in Ronan’s neck, wrapped his arms around his waist, and sighed deeply against his skin.

“I love you,” said Ronan, because it felt like the right thing to say. He let one hand brush through Adam’s hair gently and the other rub soothing circles on his back through the thin fabric of his shirt. Adam sighed again.

“I love you too,” he said, his lips brushing Ronan’s skin. He paused for a moment, maybe considering whether he could take up residence in the crook of Ronan’s neck, and then decided against it and stood up straighter. His eyes were less frantic as they met Ronan’s. “This was a bit much, wasn’t it?” he said.

Ronan cocked his head to the side, confused. “The fuck you mean?”

“The party.” Adam’s arms were still wrapped around Ronan’s middle, and his fingers played with the fabric of his muscle tee. “I don’t know what I was thinking. You’re not much of a party guy.”

Ronan made a very disagreeable noise that might have been called ‘blowing a raspberry’ if Ronan Lynch were the type of person to blow a raspberry. “Shut the fuck up, Parrish. I don’t like stupid high school parties, or stupid Gansey parties, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like _any_ parties.”

“Hm,” said Adam, which was the noise he always made when he thought Ronan wasn’t telling the entire truth but didn’t really want to start a fight. 

“I’m serious, Parrish.” Ronan drummed his fingers against Adam’s back lightly. “There was booze, there was food, I didn’t have to wear a tie, and you were here. The only downfall was that you invited Declan.”

Adam gave him half a smile. “I know it was a lot of people, I’m so—”

“ _A lot of people_ ,” Ronan sneered, not unkindly. “Jesus, you realize that you put everyone that I know under one roof and this house wasn’t even at half capacity, right? Let’s count it out, okay, my brothers, that’s two, the witches, that’s another two, the terrible trio, that’s three, you and Opal, another two, and me. Ten people. Including myself, so I know, what, nine people?”

Adam nodded along with Ronan’s addition, confirming his boyfriend was capable of basic math.

“Nine people. Nine people who I…” Ronan heard himself trail off as his body automatically avoided using the phrase _love_. It wasn’t that Ronan didn’t love people — it was exactly the opposite, honestly. He loved so much bigger than himself. He loved Adam and Opal, he loved Blue and Henry and Gansey, he loved Matthew, he even loved Declan and the women of Fox Way. Knowing it, and showing it, and _saying_ it, were three completely different things, however.

But. Adam needed to hear it. Needed to hear that he had enjoyed the party, which he had, and that it hadn’t been too much, which it hadn’t, and that he loved the people, which he did. So he grit his teeth and powered through the sentence. “Nine people who I love.”

Adam raised an eyebrow at the appearance of the ‘L’ word but didn’t mock it, which Ronan greatly appreciated. He just exhaled deeply, a sigh that wasn’t a sigh, and blinked a couple of times. “You’re sure?” he asked, his voice just this side of vulnerable.

“Yeah, I’m fucking sure,” said Ronan, punctuating his statement with a kiss to Adam’s forehead.

And just like that, Adam was good again. He was interesting like that, being able to flip-flop between angst and happiness, anger and contentment, despair and enthusiasm. It was probably a survival mechanism, Ronan thought, and the idea of that made him terribly sad and righteously angry, so he pushed it away and just focused on Adam’s smile.

“You know,” Adam said, pretending to think deeply about something, “Opal’s in bed.”

“Yes, she is.”

“And everyone’s gone.”

“Yes, they are.”

“And it’s still your birthday.”

“Yes, it is.”

Adam pulled away from Ronan, which was just about the last thing Ronan had been expecting what with the very indecent tone of voice Adam had been using, but then he took Ronan’s hand in his and said, “Well, come on, then,” with that beautiful Henrietta lilt and practically dragged Ronan up the stairs and into their room.

 _Their_ room. The door was shut and locked behind Ronan and he was pressed up against it, his shirt coming off, and he somehow found himself thinking of Adam and Declan’s conversation earlier that night. 

_So you plan on staying here?_

_Well, yeah._

He definitely shouldn’t have been thinking about Declan while Adam’s lips were hot on his clavicle. He filed that under ‘more reasons to get a therapist’ and then drew a hand up under Adam’s chin, lifting his head till they were eye-to-eye. “Did you mean it?” he murmured, his mouth moving of its own accord.

“Huh?” Adam said eloquently.

Ronan’s fingers stroked the soft surface of Adam’s jawline. “When you said you were coming back here after college.” He hated how small his voice came out. 

Adam’s look became even more confused. “Um, yeah?” he said, like the answer had been so blatantly obvious that Ronan was just being obtuse on purpose. Then his eyes widened. “Unless- unless you don’t want me to—”

Ronan was so shocked that he barked out a laugh. “No! No, I want you to, Adam. I really, really want you to.”

Adam smiled then, a glorious, wonderful thing. “Okay. Yeah. Good. Yeah. Yeah, I meant it.”

Ronan nodded, let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and then he was pulling at Adam’s clothes and his teeth were scraping against spots he remembered as being particularly sensitive, and Adam was breathing heavily and tracing his fingertips blindly against Ronan’s tattoo, and everything was right in the world again.

Ronan didn’t specifically remember being turned around and pushed toward the bed, but suddenly he was aware of his knees hitting the edge of the mattress and buckling, his body automatically sitting down and then his back hitting the sheets, and Adam, Adam, Adam, _everywhere_ , crawling on top of him and placing open-mouthed kisses to his very favorite dips and grooves in Ronan’s abdomen. Adam and his own bare chest, Ronan’s fingers tracing fanciful patterns across the bare skin, Adam grabbing his hand and pressing his index and middle finger into his mouth, Ronan groaning deep in his throat at the sight of Adam’s lips around his fingers. Adam’s fingers, wrapped loosely around his wrist, keeping Ronan’s hand in place. Adam’s other hand, moving in a completely different direction.

His hand found its mark. Ronan blacked out for half a second.

“Well, _fuck_ ,” Ronan mumbled, eyes rolling to the ceiling. He looked back at Adam just enough to see Adam’s cheeks hollow around his fingers and then whined, actually _whined_ , a noise so high and needy that he would have been embarrassed if his body had the capacity for anything other than arousal.

Adam, to his everlasting credit, did not mock the noises that left Ronan’s lips — probably because he himself knew that Ronan was intimately familiar with _his_ equally mortifying moans and gasps and cries. Or maybe because he was feeling nice. Either way, Ronan was grateful.

“Wait,” Ronan panted after a second, and Adam’s hands both immediately pulled away. The loss of contact made Ronan dizzy. “Wait,” he said again, even though Adam was already very still and very silent. “Wait.”

“You okay?” Adam asked, sounding just as breathless as Ronan, and Ronan tried and failed to suppress a grin. 

“I’m great,” he said, blinking a couple of times. “Fuckin’ fantastic. But you- you—”

Adam’s brows furrowed. “I what?”

“It’s your turn.” 

Adam’s brows suddenly unfurrowed. “But it’s your birth—”

“Damn right, it’s my birthday,” Ronan said, letting the corners of his grin turn sharp. “And I know exactly what I want.”

“Oh,” Adam said, and after a second, he slumped down on the mattress beside Ronan. “Okay.”

Ronan rolled over onto his side to stare at Adam. His light eyebrows, high cheekbones, messy mouth. The shadow of stubble, the straight line of his nose. He looked like a modern Apollo, a bronze sculpture come to life. His eyes darted over to Ronan, and he swallowed hard. Ronan followed the movement with his mouth.

Ronan’s lips travelled downwards, teeth and tongue knocking against just the right spots to elicit tiny gasps and groans from Adam’s mouth. Adam had always been much quieter in bed than Ronan, but Ronan knew exactly what to do to make him a little mouthy. So he did it.

“ _Ronan_ ,” Adam moaned, as reverential as Ronan had ever heard him. “ _Ronan._ ”

Ronan hummed in acknowledgment, and Adam let out a string of small words that might have been _youaresogoodyouaresogoodyouaresogood_.

One thing Ronan had come to learn was that Adam Parrish’s entire life was a study in self-control. Making himself do the thing he did not want to do. Stopping himself from doing the thing he _did_ want to do. A while ago, it had been a matter of survival. Now, even though he was safe, he still largely adhered to these ideas.

Even now, even in this fucking bed, Adam was maintaining control.

So Ronan did what Ronans were apt to do: he created a little chaos.

The noise that Ronan made was so explicit that it made his cheeks burn, which was incredibly funny considering the lack of trepidation he had felt throughout the entire act up until that point. He could feel Adam’s body literally shaking beneath him, so fucking close to giving in, and Ronan just shifted his position slightly and made that noise again, and Adam snapped.

This was Ronan’s very favorite thing: Adam’s hips canting upward, Adam’s mouth hanging open, Adam’s fingernails digging into his shoulders. Adam out of control. Adam on fire. Adam on the edge.

Well, that was Ronan’s _second_ favorite thing. His very favorite was the thing that came _after_ Adam on fire.

Later, when they were both long burnt out, legs tangled and skin still slick with sweat, Adam dropped his forehead against Ronan’s shoulder and sighed. Ronan and Adam were both people who liked to sigh quite a bit — Ronan for the drama, Adam for the calming effect — but this was quite a monster of a sigh, and Ronan had to ask.

“You good?” he whispered, as though speaking any louder would rip through the illusion of having Adam safe and soft and warm on his chest.

Adam smiled against the lean muscle of Ronan’s shoulder. “Yeah,” he said, his body giving in to sleep before his mind had given it permission. “Fuckin’ fantastic.”

Ronan smiled too, his heart warming unexpectedly at the sound of his words in Adam’s mouth. “I love you,” he whispered, turning his head till his nose was buried in Adam’s hair.

Adam remained conscious just long enough to say, “I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have a few things to say: first, this is my first time ever writing any type of sex scene, so sorry if it's weird or bad. Second, I started writing this because I was listening to Vanilla Twilight by Owl City and thought about Ronan missing Adam at college, but when the song switched suddenly I was writing Adam's return to the Barns and then I couldn't stop myself. Third, I wrote the majority of this before I started reading CDTH and by that point I was too invested in writing this to just give up. Also, this was really supposed to be super short, but... here we are. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to come interact with me on Tumblr if you want, I'm @wespers :)


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